


maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes

by cosmicwoosan



Series: college sexcapades [3]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Choking, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Friends, Finger Sucking, Hate Sex, Library Sex, M/M, Quickies, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Spit As Lube, Table Sex, They're both assholes tbh, yeosang eats oatmeal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26457949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicwoosan/pseuds/cosmicwoosan
Summary: “I think you and Seonghwa just need a real good hard hate fucking session. Then you two can kiss and make up, or at least get all the hate out of your system. Just a suggestion.”“Yeah, no.” San finally manages to push Yeosang off of him, whose limp body flops back onto the sofa once San is standing. He laughs, arm thrown over his stomach as he rolls onto his side.“Ah, Sannie. I think that’s what you should do. And I’m gonna make it happen.”or, San hates Seonghwa, and thanks to some Woosang finessing, he finds himself in the library with his pants down and the man he hates right in front of him.
Relationships: Choi San/Park Seonghwa
Series: college sexcapades [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894903
Comments: 12
Kudos: 319





	maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i don't know what spurred this one on. but hey, it's the first atz fic in the library sex tag so hopefully i'll start a revolution
> 
> title from "if you're too shy (let me know)" by the 1975

“Don’t you think you should be having sex with someone other than me?”

What a question to be asked at ten in the morning, freshly woken up by obnoxious sunlight peering in through a curtainless window (he really needs to get some fucking curtains), eyes still fighting to open so he can finally start the day. His first class is at three, thank the heavens. But this question is definitely not what he needs right now.

San glowers at his roommate. “Uh. Why are you asking me this?”

“Because,” Yeosang says, “it’s getting tiring.”

And ouch, if that didn’t feel like a gunshot straight to San’s self-esteem.

“Look, sex with you is fan-fucking-tastic, don’t get me wrong. Like, your stroke game? Twenty out of ten. But you _do_ realize that this isn’t some kind of _committed_ friends with benefits thing, right?”

“Just say you’re looking to fuck someone else, Yeosang. I’m not going to be mad,” San says with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m looking to fuck someone else,” Yeosang admits easily, proceeding to take a noisy bite of his morning oatmeal (nasty, San thinks, who the fuck eats oatmeal?).

San just stares at him, awaiting an answer, but Yeosang just takes another slurpy bite of his chunky liquid-slash-solid breakfast, whatever the fuck oatmeal is. A soup? San doesn’t fucking know.

“Okay, so, who?” San asks.

Yeosang swallows. “His name’s Yunho. Jeong Yunho. Goes to the gym a lot. Rumor has it he has a big dick and I want to find out for myself.”

“Oh, god, isn’t he one of Park Seonghwa’s friends?”

Park Seonghwa, the bane of San’s existence.

The thing is, Park Seonghwa is a likeable guy in most people’s eyes. Part of student council, avid volunteer, always there to participate in student events and activities. Goes to the gym a lot. Probably has a perfect GPA, but part of that might be accredited to the fact that he’s a total suck up.

Once upon there had been a rumor that he seduced a teacher for better grades, but the school was in favor of _him_ , and the rumor was smothered almost as soon as it arose. To this day, nobody knows if it’s true.

Nobody would look at him like he’s an average guy because he’s not. He’s above average, immaculately so, and San would call himself a liar if he tried to think otherwise. He’s not blind, nor oblivious, nor jealous, nor petty.

There is just a small percentage of people who don’t like Park Seonghwa for various reasons, and Choi San is part of that percentage.

The reason for Choi San not liking Park Seonghwa?

Rewind back to freshman year, when San was excited to be an active member of the community, bright eyes and ambitions as he meandered around the student fair, looking for a club to join. The first group that had caught his eye was an all men’s acapella group. San considered himself to be a good singer, and an acapella group would have been the perfect opportunity to hone his skills and improve. He’s all for improvement and self discovery.

Except Seonghwa just had to go and step on his dreams and ambitions with his stupid Doc Martens.

Seonghwa had somehow managed to get in after his audition _and_ be a judge for the second round of auditions, which is when San performed. San had been nervous, dressed to impress, and the first thing Seonghwa did when he saw him was smirk and eye him up and down like he was fresh meat.

“Show us what you got,” is the first thing Park Seonghwa ever said to him.

And the fucking _nerve_ of him, as a college freshman as well, acting as if he was already at the top of the food chain.

Determined to wipe the smirk of Seonghwa’s face, San sang his little heart out.

Maybe it was because he forgot to drink enough water that day. During the bridge of his audition song, one of his notes fell flat, and his throat betrayed him, breaking one of the high notes he attempted, and he was so embarrassed that he cut the track early.

Needless to say, San didn’t make it into the acapella group, and the last thing he heard before he exited the stage, head hung low, was Seonghwa’s insufferable laugh and an exaggerated mock of San’s misfortune.

Backstage was a sympathetic pianist by the name of Kim Hongjoong, who’d patted San on the back and told him he did a good job despite the slip up. Well near tears, all San could do was offer the generous man a halfhearted smile before storming out of the music building, blinking away the tears that finally decided to fall.

Hongjoong would later on become one of San’s closest friends, and they bonded over their strong aversions towards Park Seonghwa.

Apparently, Seonghwa had been Hongjoong’s neighbor growing up and subjected him to a wide variety of pranks, from dyeing his shampoo, throwing frogs in his pool, discretely mailing one of those stupid glitter bombs to him, et cetera. Hongjoong was excited to leave for university a year early and escape from Seonghwa’s clutches, only to have that detestable man follow in his footsteps. Whether he did it on purpose or not, Hongjoong doesn’t know.

Having found out about Seonghwa’s egregious actions in the past, it makes San feel a little less bad about despising the guy. Yeosang doesn’t quite understand, and although he can understand where San’s disdain towards Seonghwa stems from, he’s more or less indifferent.

And now, he’s saying he wants to fuck one of Seonghwa’s friends. Great.

“I would say you’re betraying me, but that’s dramatic and I’m not a theater major like you,” San says.

Yeosang shrugs. “Be petty all you want. I still have my eyes on Jeong Yunho. Besides, since when is wanting to fuck your enemy’s friend a violation of the bro code?”

San raises an eyebrow. “Since when have we ever followed a ‘bro code?’”

“See, there’s my point!” Yeosang grins deviously and winks. “There’s nothing bad about fucking your enemy’s friend!”

“Okay, so, how would you feel about me fucking Wooyoung?”

The smile is instantly wiped off Yeosang’s face.

“Now why the hell would you want to fuck _him_?”

If San were a shitty friend, he’d spit in Yeosang’s oatmeal, dump it on him, and say, “There’s my point.”

But San is a good friend who _won’t_ go and fuck Yeosang’s enemy’s friend or dump Yeosang’s oatmeal on his head. So he says nothing and prepares his own breakfast, ignoring Yeosang’s eyes following his every move.

-

Maybe your friend fucking your enemy’s friend isn’t as bad as one of your friends fucking your actual enemy, San comes to realize.

He comes to realize both of those things when he finds Seonghwa and Hongjoong using the piano in one of the practice rooms in a way pianos shouldn’t be used.

San doesn’t barge in because he’s a good friend and and it would be extremely weird and awkward if he did.

So instead, he blocks Hongjoong on Instagram and goes to bed at eight-thirty.

-

**[traitor]**

_um hello???? why the fuck am i blocked????_

**[the innocent one]**

_ur reported too_

_traitor_

**[traitor]**

_holy fuck how did you find out_

_what the fuck_

_did someone snitch_

_wait a second i didn’t even tell anybody????_

**[the innocent one]**

_nobody told me_

_went to the music building to pick up my shit and saw you and that monstrosity banging on the piano_

_if u two broke it i’m not helping you pay for it_

**[traitor]**

_okay look_

_im sorry ok?? but he came in while i was practicing and apologized for all the shit he did when we were younger and_

_tension_

_and then. yeah._

_IM SORRY OKAY??? IT WAS A ONE TIME THING I SWEAR_

_AND NO WE DIDN’T BREAK THE PIANO_

**[the innocent one]**

_mhm ok._

_i’ll think about forgiveness once i can erase the image of you getting plowed on a piano from my brain_

_maybe i’ll burn my eye sockets out in the process_

**[traitor]**

_oh my god_

_ur not even a theater major and ur being this dramatic_

**[the innocent one]**

_ur a traitor_

_u don’t get to say that_

**[traitor]**

-_-

_get back to me when ur ego deflates, k?_

-

San is livid for the next few days, but considering Hongjoong and Yeosang are pretty much the only people he talks to, he also gets pretty lonely.

Which leads him to this.

Messaging Jung Wooyoung over Instagram, because if Yeosang is keen on fucking his enemy’s friend, why can’t San do the same? It’s petty, sure, but San is lonely and sex deprived and angry and has every right to be.

Screw being the “good friend.” San needs dick and some form of revenge.

**[sannieshine99]**

_hey this is choi san. not sure if u know/remember but we have literature together_

**[j.ungwooyoung]**

_oh hey! yeah ik you lol we’ve spoken maybe twice_

_what’s up?_

**[sannieshine99]**

_you know yeosang right?_

_my roommate_

**[j.ungwooyoung]**

_yeah lol he hates mingi’s guts for whatever reason_

_what about him_

**[sannieshine99]**

_you know park seonghwa and jeong yunho right?_

**[j.ungwooyoung]**

_yeah lol who DOESN’T know them_

**[sannieshine99]**

_well, long story short:_

_park seonghwa is the bane of my existence and yeosang wants to get into yunho’s pants and im petty and annoyed bc my other friend hongjoong who once hated park seonghwa’s guts decided to go behind my back and hook up with him on a piano_

_i figured i have nothing else to lose_

_basically do u wanna hang out sometime_

**[j.ungwooyoung]**

_oh wow. sounds like quite the predicament_

_sure i’m down lol_

_so like, are u doing this to get back at yeosang…?_

**[sannieshine99]**

_i have nothing against him_

_well actually that’s kind of a lie_

_basically im practically friendless atm and i figured if yeosang is trying to get into my enemy’s friend’s pants, i could do the same and it would be ok. like, we’d even, y’know_

_and don’t even get me STARTED on hongjoong_

**[j.ungwooyoung]**

_lmaooo so basically u wanna get into my pants bc ur petty_

**[sannieshine99]**

_when you put it like that it sounds awful_

_but yeah_

_but u also seem like a cool guy and a chill neutral third party. who knows, maybe this whole thing could blossom into a beautiful friendship_

**[j.ungwooyoung]**

_i’ve always wanted to be a chill neutral third party_

_sweet i’m in_

_but if ur gonna dick me down u better be good_

-

What ends up happening not what San prepared for.

He and Wooyoung become friends, that much was predictable. San had been half joking when he told Wooyoung that he wanted to get into his pants because he was petty, but Wooyoung is the one to actually _initiate_.

It’s completely out of the blue, to the point where San doesn’t even kiss Wooyoung back for a few seconds because he has to take the time to process that _holy shit, okay, this is happening._ Where Wooyoung swings his leg over San’s lap and gazes at him with a glint of lust in his eyes, winking before he leans in to kiss him.

Wooyoung tastes like maple syrup and autumn and San loves it.

And it becomes a regular thing, actually. Their time together is strangely intimate despite the whole thing starting out of pity, and San finds himself enjoying it more than the times he’s spent with Yeosang.

Speaking of Yeosang.

While San’s being drilled into the mattress one night, he ignores the sound of the front door opening and closing. Wooyoung, on the other hand, comes to an abrupt halt.

“Uh… might wanna keep it down,” Wooyoung whispers.

“No,” San says with a devilish smirk, grabbing Wooyoung by the back of his neck and pulling him closer. “Let him hear.”

Wooyoung, who San has learned to be just as mischievous as him, resumes his sharp, intense movements, knocking San into the headboard, making it pound against the wall.

“Ah, _fuck_!” San full on exclaims, followed by a stream of moans way too exaggerated to be real (even though they are for the most part).

Wooyoung adds a couple of his own to the mix, combined with a few instances of laughter because really, both of them are enjoying this way too much.

“Oh, Wooyoung, right _there_ ,” San moans in Wooyoung’s neck, biting down gently.

” _Excuse me_?” comes a shrill screech from what San thinks is the kitchen. Followed by several footsteps that grow louder. And then a pounding on the door. “Did I hear what I _think_ I just heard?”

“Y-yes, Wooyoung, harder!” San cries, smothering a laugh into Wooyoung’s skin. Wooyoung still obliges though, thrusting with more force, ripping another moan from San’s throat.

“Are you fucking _kidding me_?” Yeosang shouts, pounding on the door again. “Open the door this instance!”

“Why the hell would I open the door? I’m getting fucked in here!”

And really, why _would_ San open the door when he’s busy getting railed by Yeosang’s enemy’s friend?

Defeated, Yeosang eventually realizes that his roommate isn’t going to stop having sex just to get yelled at, so he leaves, making sure to slam the door behind him.

Wooyoung stops moving then, laughing to himself. “Wow. Choi San, you are certainly a character.”

San winks at him, smirking. “I’ve been called worse. Now, get back to rearranging my guts, okay?”

“Yes sir.”

-

Yeosang doesn’t say a single word to him for the next week and a half, so San starts hanging out with Wooyoung instead.

Like Yeosang, Wooyoung is indifferent to Park Seonghwa simply because he doesn’t _know_ the guy well enough to hate him, but as San is ranting on about Seonghwa and his snooty attitude disguised as generosity and kindness, Wooyoung starts to make faces.

“Yeah, no, this guy sounds like a bag of dicks. And not pretty dicks,” he says. “Speaking of enemies, do you know why Yeosang hates Mingi so much?”

San shrugs. “Something about a class they had together or something. I don’t know, Yeosang’s pretty dramatic.”

“Mm, bring a theater major into drama and unnecessarily strong feelings of hatred and jealousy are sure to rise,” Wooyoung laments, shaking his head. “From what Mingi’s told me, he truly has no idea why Yeosang hates him so much. A communication error, if anything. If they just talked it out, maybe they’d make up.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen, honestly,” San says. “Yeosang _really_ hates Mingi’s guts and would probably never speak to him unless he was somehow forced to. I mean, I would ask him why he hates him, but… we’re not on speaking terms at the moment.”

“Well, yeah, you weren’t even trying to hide the fact that we were fucking,” Wooyoung snorts, followed by a chuckle. “Seriously though, I feel like if they just _talked_ they’d get things sorted out, you know?”

Wooyoung is looking at him conspicuously, and San isn’t an idiot.

“No,” San says, catching on. “I’m not talking to Seonghwa.”

“Then don’t be a hypocrite.” Wooyoung sighs and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms. “You ever think that Seonghwa doesn’t see what he’s done wrong and that maybe he needs to be _told_ what he’s done wrong? If you don’t tell him, he’ll never know and you two will never reconcile.”

“I have no reason or desire to reconcile with him. We were never friends to begin with.”

“Don’t be so closed-minded, Sannie.” Wooyoung smirks and leans back in, resting his chin on his hands and batting his eyelashes. “Who knows? Maybe it could blossom into a beautiful friendship with some hot piano-banging thrown in there.”

San gives him the biggest eye roll he could possibly give him and shoves that idea in the shredder of his brain, hoping that it will never resurface.

-

Yeosang only starts talking to San again after he managed to get into Yunho’s pants. It’s about two in the morning on a Saturday, right after Friday night’s party, San is on the living room sofa, and Yeosang stumbles in, closes the door behind him, and sighs dreamily. There are two very visible marks on the left side of his neck.

“Best. Sex. Ever.”

San stares at him, dead in the face. “Rumor confirmed. Jeong Yunho is a sex _god_ ,” Yeosang adds, his blissed out expression and inebriation making him seem like some lovestruck fool. God, if the two date, San will actually rip his eyeballs out of his sockets. “Big dick. Yes. Absolutely correct.”

“Please spare the details,” San groans, wishing to shove cotton balls in his ears.

Huh. Maybe he is being a bit dramatic for someone who isn’t a theater major.

Even so, it’s nice to hear Yeosang’s voice after who knows how long of the silent treatment. San is pretty sure that the alcohol in his roommate’s system is certainly helping with that, but nevertheless, at least Yeosang is here and talking to him now.

“What about you, Sannie? What have you been up to tonight?” Yeosang asks, grinning as he plops down on the sofa next to him.

“Uh.” San’s eyes briefly drift over to the television that’s spilling some late night soap opera that he had on as background noise while he was scrolling through Hongjoong’s Instagram trying to find some shred of evidence that he and Seonghwa aren’t a thing. “Watching TV.”

Yeosang squints at the screen. “Didn’t take you for a soap opera type.” He chuckles and throws both his arms around San’s shoulders. “Sannie, are you _really_ fucking Jung Wooyoung?”

“Kinda, yeah,” San answers. He can’t help but smile; Yeosang is cute when he’s drunk.

“Okay, well, I _was_ mad at you, but honestly, I can’t stay mad at you. I mean, I fucked Yunho, so it’s only fair that you fuck Wooyoung. Is it a regular basis kinda thing?”

San shrugs. “I mean, it’s happened more than once, but I wouldn’t say it’s a ‘regular’ thing.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I _did_ say it was about time for you to find someone else to fuck.” Yeosang giggles, nuzzling into San’s neck. “You know, Seonghwa was there. He looked _hot_.”

San is about to just get up and leave when he feels Yeosang’s entire weight down on his shoulders. Somehow, in his inebriated state, Yeosang holds enough strength to pin San to the sofa. “Seriously, Sannie. You can’t deny he’s attractive.”

“I never denied it,” San grumbles, wriggling in Yeosang’s bear hug. “But I know what you’re insinuating, and _no_ , I’m not going to fuck him.”

Yeosang shrugs, pouting. “Maybe you just need to get it out of your system. That’s what happened with Hongjoong, right?”

“How did you know about that?”

“Word gets around,” Yeosang coos, stroking San’s cheek, tongue poking out. “I think you and Seonghwa just need a real good hard hate fucking session. Then you two can kiss and make up, or at least get all the hate out of your system. Just a suggestion.”

“Yeah, no.” San finally manages to push Yeosang off of him, whose limp body flops back onto the sofa once San is standing. He laughs, arm thrown over his stomach as he rolls onto his side.

“Ah, Sannie. I think that’s what you should do. And I’m gonna make it happen.”

San scoffs, already on his way to his bedroom.

“Okay, good luck with that.”

-

San sees Hongjoong the next Thursday by a twist of fate. Luckily, he’s not with Seonghwa; otherwise, San probably would have instantly turned on his heels and walked away. However, because he isn’t _that_ petty (or is at least trying to prove to himself and everyone around him that he isn’t), he approaches the situation nonchalantly.

The situation being that San goes to the local Starbucks and Hongjoong happens to be sitting right where the window outlooking the entrance is, therefore, eye contact is almost inevitable. An uneasy feeling surfaces underneath San’s skin as he tries his best to avoid it, but if anything, Hongjoong is even pettier than he is because as soon as San is about to skedaddle, Hongjoong stops him.

“San, can we talk?” It almost sounds like a plea. Maybe he isn’t petty after all.

“What about?” San replies flatly. Definitely petty.

“You know what about,” Hongjoong says matter-of-factly, his face deflating. “Just at least let me explain what happened, okay?”

If San’s being honest, he’s actually missed Hongjoong quite a lot, and somewhere in the back of his head is Yeosang’s snickering.

So that’s how they end up wandering the winding pathways of their university, hands awkwardly positioned in their pockets and walking at a pace that most people would find obnoxiously slow. It’s been about five minutes and Hongjoong hasn’t said a word.

So much for “talking.”

They’ve almost come full circle and the sun has begun to set when Hongjoong finally speaks. “Okay, now that I’ve mulled over what I want to say in my head, I want to start off by saying that no, I’m not sorry for fucking Seonghwa.”

“Jesus Christ—”

“And let me explain why,” Hongjoong says firmly, his tone taking San aback. They finally come to a halt near a bench, one that Hongjoong sits down on while San stays standing in case he needs to dramatically storm off. “Maybe the fucking was a little unnecessary, I’ll admit that. But he _did_ apologize for all the shit he pulled because I gave him the chance to. He walked in while I was in there, not knowing that I was, and he was actually the one who apologized first. He didn’t just say sorry and go, San. He saw me and took that opportunity to apologize to me, and I listened.”

San stares off somewhere else, wishing he could _really_ shove cotton balls in his ears.

“We’re not friends,” Hongjoong adds (as if it’s supposed to make San feel better), “but we’re not enemies anymore either. We haven’t spoken since the whole thing, but I don’t hate him as much as I did now that he’s apologized and recognized that he was a shit person to me. I think if you just _talk_ to him and give him the opportunity to apologize, you might hate him a little less.”

“I don’t get why you and Yeosang and even _Wooyoung_ all want me to not hate Seonghwa,” San gripes, crossing his arms.

“Because we’re decent people and we recognize that Seonghwa can be too if you just open your mind a little bit and give him the chance to apologize,” Hongjoong snaps, quick and concise. “If anything, you’re being the smaller person in this whole thing. Like yeah, I get that your friend fucking the guy you hate can feel pretty shitty, but don’t forget that I also hated him.”

San sucks in his bottom lip, feeling a small twinge of guilt in his gut at Hongjoong’s words.

Hongjoong lets out a long, exasperated sigh. “I’m not mad at you, and I hope you’re not mad at me.”

“I’m not,” San mumbles, because really, when he thinks about it, sans cotton balls and all, he really is being petty and he can see why Hongjoong is upset with him. “But look, Hongjoong. I _don’t_ like Seonghwa. And I’m not going to seek him out and demand that he apologizes to me or anything like that, because I don’t want to talk to him to begin with.”

“And that’s fair, but don’t get all mopey when we talk about him, either,” Hongjoong says.

San lets out a defeated sigh, figuring that this compromise is the best thing he can muster considering the circumstances. He lost communication with Hongjoong for _weeks_ because he’s a dramatic, petty not-theater major who can’t seem to accept the fact that his friends aren’t exactly going to hate the people he hates because they won’t always have a reason to.

“Fine.”

-

By another twist of fate, San finds himself at the library while he waits for Wooyoung to be done with tutoring. He’s lounging behind one of the bookshelves, feeling grateful that this floor of the library isn’t all that occupied. From what he hears, the top two floors of the library are practically vacant and often unsupervised as they hold the more useless books that nobody bothers going up to find.

He’s spacing out when he feels his phone vibrate in his lap.

**[weewoo]**

_hey, ill be done in like 10_

_in the meantime can u go up to the 6th floor and get me an atlas_

**[saaaaan]**

_tf is an atlas_

**[wewoo]**

_oh my god_

_welp. there IS a reason why nobody goes up there lmao_

_look just take the elevator, when u get out just go straight and it’ll be on the third shelf to ur right_

**[saaaaan]**

_fine_

(And really, San should’ve asked why Wooyoung needed an atlas in the first place, if only he’d known what he would actually find once he got up there.)

-

The sixth floor of the library is desolate and honestly kind of scary.

As soon as San steps out of the elevator, he’s greeted by a small entryway and two glass panels on either side of him and a small doorway that leads to where the actual bookshelves are. There are only a few lights that are on, all of which are scattered, making the floor appear much darker than the ones below. Minus the incessant hum of the library’s temperature control system, not a sound can be heard, not even commotion from the floors underneath him.

A chill travels down San’s spine as he makes his way out of the elevator and onto the dimly-lit floor. Beyond the little entrance hall, San follows Wooyoung’s instructions and turns right at the third shelf.

San blames it on the low lighting and the debate in his mind about what the hell an atlas is (he swears he knew what it is at one point), because as he’s about to kneel down to search the shelves for Wooyoung’s atlas, there’s a low _thud_ right across from him. Confused, he frowns and stands back up, only to find Park Seonghwa beyond the fourth shelf at one of the tables, a pile of books placed in front of him.

And it’s in that moment that he happens to look up.

“Oh, hi, San,” Seonghwa says like it’s _nothing_. “Didn’t expect to run into you up here.”

San can already feel the blood surging in his veins begin to heat up. He’s sure his entire face is flushed as it runs hot, anger bubbling in his chest. “Oh, yeah, neither did I.”

“Whatcha doing up here? You know this floor is, like, never used.”

“Could ask you the same thing,” San mutters.

As much as he’d love nothing more than to leave, his feet are being held down by some invisible force, and all he can do is stand there as Park Seonghwa talks to him like _nothing is wrong._

As if Seonghwa is clueless to San’s bitter cadences, he answers with, “Oh, a friend asked me to get some stuff for him up here. Don’t know why he needs encyclopedias A through E, but here we are.” He chuckles and pats the thick stack of books, leaning his forearm against it. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Uh… a friend of mine asked me to get an atlas,” San says. “But truth be told, I don’t exactly know what an atlas is.”

Seonghwa snorts. “It’s a bunch of maps.”

San bites his bottom lip, toes curling in his shoes. “Thanks, good to know.”

“Need help looking for it?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Well, you’re in the wrong section, first of all,” Seonghwa says, glancing at the shelves against the wall behind him. “Those are, like, info books for children. Atlases are back here, where the encyclopedias are.”

And that’s when San finally pieces the puzzle together.

With a deep inhale, San approaches the shelves with his head hung low, avoiding Park Seonghwa’s gaze at all cost, because if another word slips out, he might just punch him in the face.

“Hey,” Seonghwa says, tone dipping. “Would that friend of yours happen to be Yeosang?”

“What?” San turns to face Seonghwa, who’s looking at him with genuine puzzlement. “Why would you assume that?”

“He was the one who wanted me to get encyclopedias for him.”

“You’re friends with Yeosang?”

“Not really. We’re in the same class, happened to be studying at the same time back down on the third floor and he asked if I could get some encyclopedias for him because he doesn’t know where they are and I work here.”

San scoffs, turning back to face the shelf. “Does he not know the internet exists?” His face suddenly morphs into one of both confusion and realization.

Former: does Yeosang even know what an encyclopedia is?

Latter: those two fucking _planned this._

“Oh my god,” he mumbles, slapping his forehead and running his hand down his tired face. “I’m an idiot. I’m a huge fucking idiot.”

“What?” Seonghwa asks obliviously.

“Nothing,” San says, already turning on his feet. “Wooyoung can just look up those fucking maps online, I’m out of here.”

“San.”

“What?” San snaps, eyes locking on Seonghwa again.

Seonghwa’s brows are furrowed, face set in a deep yet bemused frown. “Look, I don’t know what I did that made you hate me so much, but—”

“Oh, so you’re aware that I hate you. That’s good.” San rolls his eyes, yet his feet are weighing him down again, as if invisible nails have been hammered into them.

“Yeah, because Hongjoong told me.”

San’s mouth drops open. “He _told_ you?” he almost exclaims, internally reminding himself they’re still in a library.

“He didn’t tell me _why_ you hate me so much. Said that you do but it wasn’t his story to tell,” Seonghwa says with a shrug. “We’ve barely even talked, so I don’t know why you don’t like me.”

“Because you’re a _dick_ , Seonghwa,” San seethes, the horrendous memories of Seonghwa’s smug ass face and condescending mockery of his misfortune resurfacing in his brain.

“Do tell me _why_ I’m a dick, San,” Seonghwa replies calmly, though San can tell there’s an underlying sense of indignance beneath those seemingly neutral eyes.

“Remember freshman year? When my voice cracked during my audition and you _laughed_ at me?”

Seonghwa’s brows knit together again as if to think. “I did?”

“Yeah, you fucking did! What, are you going to pretend like you don’t remember?”

“No, I _do_ remember. I just didn’t know it affected you that much.”

“Newsflash, Seonghwa, when you make fun of something so embarrassing like that, it tends to affect people!”

San swears if he gets any angrier he’s going to pop a blood vessel. There Seonghwa is, standing still and innocently as he spews bullshit about _not knowing that it affected him so much._ What, does the guy not have common human decency? Empathy? Is he _that_ much of a stuck up narcissist?

Seonghwa sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, fuck, okay. I’m sorry, alright? I was a dick freshman year, I know. Probably made way more enemies than friends during that time, but I swear, I’m not that person anymore.”

San rolls his eyes so hard that they might as well fall on the floor. “Yeah, so, it’s taken you two years to apologize.”

“I’ve never had the opportunity to,” Seonghwa counters, frown deepening. “But I’m here now, and I’m apologizing.”

“And what if I don’t accept your apology?”

Somewhere in the back of his brain, it’s as if San can hear Yeosang and Wooyoung and even Hongjoong screaming at him.

“Then what do you want me to do, San?” Seonghwa retorts, bewilderment filling his face and tone. “If you don’t accept my apology, that’s on you, not me. I can’t turn back time and undo what I did. I’m _sorry_ I hurt your feelings.”

And as if the reverse side of the hammer as ripped the nails from his feet, San finds himself stepping towards the very man he detests, the bane of his existence. To what, shove him? Punch him in the face? Both sound very tempting, but San isn’t quite sure what’s drawing him towards the guy.

San has never been so up close to Seonghwa, nor did he ever think he would be. Just a few centimeters taller, standing beneath Park Seonghwa is admittedly intimidating, but San’s outrage is enough to make him look up with full-standing confidence. However, San would be lying if he were to say Seonghwa isn’t more attractive up close.

He also smells like maple, and fuck, San loves maple.

“You realize you did more than just hurt my feelings, right? It was _humiliating_ , Seonghwa. You and your pretentious ass mocking me in front of the other judges and auditioners.”

“Pretentious, huh?” Seonghwa tests, eyes narrowing. “Don’t think you’re all innocent in this, San. Look, I’m apologizing, and you’re still finding it in you to hate my guts and turn this all around on me? I’m _trying_ to be the bigger person here, and you’re just being a brat.”

“A _brat_?” San’s mouth drops open. “You’re calling me a brat?”

“Yeah, I’m calling you a brat! What _friend_ drops another friend over fucking somebody you hate?”

“Oh my god, did Hongjoong tell you everything _except_ the reason why I hate you?”

“He told me that you got all petty because you saw us fucking in the piano room and didn’t even hear him out, and that’s pretty fucking shitty in my opinion.”

“Well he should’ve just kept his fat fucking mouth shut and minded his own business!”

“Look who’s talking! You’re being such a petty brat, San!”

“Oh, for the love of god, shut the fuck up!”

“Make me,” Seonghwa challenges, stepping forward, his autumn scent washing over San.

San can feel hot puffs of air from Seonghwa’s nose on his face before he shoves him back against the table.

And somehow, by another goddamn twist of fate, San trips on his own two fucking feet and his chest ends up blundering right into Seonghwa’s. With a grunt, San attempts to remove himself, maybe go in for another shove (or even a punch, god, he wants to punch Seonghwa so bad), when he finds himself being pulled back in, and then, there’s a pair of lips smashing into his.

The idea of punching Seonghwa flies out the window.

Seonghwa’s fingers are tight on the back of his neck, pulling him against him in a grip that San couldn’t escape from even if he tried.

(Well, he could. But the pair of lips against him tastes like maple and he’s a sucker for maple.)

As San attempts to pry himself away from Seonghwa, a few jumbled up words slash noises escape his mouth through heated breaths, but Seonghwa’s clutch is tight. When Seonghwa bites down on his bottom lip, his mouth opens to yelp from the sudden pinch, only to have his voice swallowed up by Seonghwa’s tongue.

The only noise that San can get out is a strangled moan.

When he thinks Seonghwa is _finally_ giving him mercy, the older leans into his ear and murmurs, “I’m sorry, okay? I can make it up to you.”

“Yeah?” San tries. “And how would you do that?”

The answer is blatant by the way Seonghwa is cupping the growing bulge in his pants and dropping to his knees. “Shit, Seonghwa, you’re not serious—”

“I’m _very_ serious, San,” Seonghwa says as he expertly undoes San’s pants and pulls them down along with his underwear. His half-hard cock springs free, and Seonghwa grabs the base of it, tongue swiping out over his bottom lip. “This’ll shut both of us up, don’t you think? A win-win.”

And shit, how the fuck can San argue with that?”

Seonghwa swallows San’s cock easily, fitting his lips around it as his tongue flattens against the underside. San’s head falls back, his fingers instinctively threading in his jet black hair, tugging slightly. Seonghwa hums as he closes his eyes, continuing to work his deft mouth on San’s cock.

Biting the inside of his lip, San lets out a breathy moan through his nostrils, a nest of hot pleasure building in his stomach. Never did he think he’d have Park Seonghwa on his fucking _knees_ right in front of him, begging for forgiveness in a more or less conventional way.

He’s certainly not complaining.

“Hate me now?” Seonghwa teases once he’s pulled off, stroking San’s cock, now slick with his spit.

San scoffs. “A little less.”

“Then how about this.” Seonghwa sits himself down on the table, right beside the stack of encyclopedias. “Fuck me on this table, and we’ll call it even.”

_Even?_

San doesn’t exactly know how fucking Seonghwa on a table would make up for the sheer embarrassment he felt when he finally escaped that terrifying spotlight, but…

Seonghwa is already undoing his belt, legs spread in an invitation so tempting that San’s mouth is starting to water.

“I’ve always wanted to get fucked in here,” Seonghwa says nonchalantly, eyes trained on San’s. “When you work here, you tend to think a lot… you get a lot of ideas…”

San steps forward as Seonghwa removes every article of clothing from the waist down. “Yeah? And what would those be?”

“There are no cameras up here, nobody to hear us. Just… the thrill of having sex in a semi-public place like this…”

“Exhibitionist much?” San taunts, slotting himself between Seonghwa’s open legs, wet cock sliding against his.

“Maybe,” Seonghwa says. “I _did_ fuck Hongjoong in the piano room, after all.”

“Don’t remind me,” San mutters, although with how his current situation is, he isn’t exactly in the position to be making demands like that.

Seonghwa smirks. “Well, San? Get me nice and wet for you.”

So he does, he raises his fingers to Seonghwa’s lips instead of his own, and to his surprise, Seonghwa takes them in welcomingly, _greedily_ , even. His eyes slip shut, tongue circling the digits, coating them thoroughly with his saliva. By the time San pulls his fingers out, enough spit has collected at the bottom of Seonghwa’s mouth that a thin pool dribbles out past his lips.

San runs his slicked-up fingers over Seonghwa’s hole, leaning back on his soles until his face is right above their crotches and letting a fat glob of his own spit fall onto Seonghwa’s cock. While one finger pushes past his rim, San’s other hand grabs onto his cock, stroking it and spreading saliva all over it.

“S-San, _fuck_ ,” Seonghwa groans, low and throaty as he pushes himself down. “More, give me _more_.”

San complies, watching as Seonghwa’s face twists in both pleasure and discomfort as San inserts a second finger. “You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” Seonghwa replies, the tiniest of smiles on his face. “But if you don’t get in me in the next two seconds I might just kick you.”

“Sheesh, impatient much?” San chuckles, spreading his two fingers to scissor Seonghwa further open.

Apparently having been around the block before, Seonghwa urges San’s fingers out and his cock in instead. San’s face scrunches up as he pushes into Seonghwa’s tight heat, mouth falling open once he’s bottomed out, and he watches as Park Seonghwa’s dumb pretentious face crumbles into pleasure right in front of his eyes.

“Oh, f-fuck,” Seonghwa groans, closing one leg around San’s backside. “Oh my _god_ , San.”

“Be quiet,” San hisses, closing a hand around Seonghwa’s throat.

(Instinctively, by the way. Yeosang has a thing.)

Seonghwa’s lips part at the pressure, his eyelids drooping as if his entire soul left his body the very moment San’s fingers squeezed his throat. “Oh, you have a thing for pain, huh?” San questions with an an experimental thrust. Seonghwa’s body lurches, a choked moan escaping his mouth.

“S-San, agh—”

San smirks; _finally_ , he’s rendered Park Seonghwa speechless.

“It’s so nice, not hearing you talk,” San says, thrusting again and releasing Seonghwa’s throat. A string of hoarse moans follow, all while Seonghwa’s tongue hangs loosely from his mouth and his eyelids droop from mindless pleasure.

San balls up a fistful of Seonghwa’s shirt and pulls him in, connecting their lips as he rocks into him. Seonghwa _whines_ into his mouth, his body practically spasming as he fumbles for something to hold onto, ultimately settling for hooking one of his arms around San’s shoulder.

“ _Fuck_ , right there San!” Seonghwa cries, panting heavily into San’s mouth. “P-please, touch me, _please_ —”

He’s cut off by another moan as San wraps his fingers around Seonghwa’s cock, stroking it in time with his sharp thrusts. With one hand curled in Seonghwa’s shirt and the other tugging Seonghwa’s cock, San almost loses _himself_ in the pleasure, dangerously close, before Seonghwa suddenly nudges San off of him and instead shuffles backward on the table to lie down on it.

Taking the incentive, San climbs onto the table, hooking his arms under Seonghwa’s legs before pushing in again. Seonghwa takes hold of his own cock and closes his eyes, mouth falling open once more as moans make their way out of it.

“S-San, ‘m gonna cum soon,” Seonghwa warns in a whimper.

“Then cum,” San growls, pressing in further, thrusting even harder.

“Oh, _fuck_! San, r-right there, please _don’t stop_ ,” Seonghwa gasps, his body jerking beneath San as he cums, white spurting across his (thankfully white) t-shirt.

San winces at the sudden clench of Seonghwa’s insides, the heat intensifying as Seonghwa cums around him, furthering him into the spiral of his own climax. With a long groan, he pulls out, not even needing to stroke himself _once_ before his cock is cumming in long streaks over Seonghwa’s own load. When he looks up, he sees Seonghwa’s mouth open, cum painting his chin.

Panting thickly, San falls back on his ass against the cold yet sweat-covered table, and a smile spreads across his face. “Fucking hell,” he mutters.

“Y-yeah,” Seonghwa manages, grunting and groaning as he sits back up. Though his shirt is white, the streaks of cum are still visible, translucent over the fabric. “Fuck.”

“You could, like, turn it inside out,” San advises, chuckling.

“Yeah, I was thinking that.” Seonghwa laughs as well, yanking the shirt over his head.

And, well, shit.

San ogles at the process of Seonghwa simply turning his t-shirt inside out and putting it back on because holy shit, Seonghwa’s time at the gym definitely does not go unnoticed.

“So,” Seonghwa says once they’re both situated back in their clothes. “Do you, uh, still hate me?”

San sighs, exhaustion from both sex and the two years of hating Seonghwa finally settling in. “I don’t think I really _hated_ you,” San admits. “I just hated what you did.”

“And trust me, San, I would take it back if I could. I really am sorry.” Seonghwa is looking at him with such genuine remorse that San feels guilty for ever “hating” him.

“Okay.” San takes a deep breath. “Okay. I accept your apology. And… I’m sorry for being a dick all this time too.”

“It’s okay.” Seonghwa smiles at him and extends his hand. “Truce?”

With another deep breath of fresh, sex and maple-filled air, San nods.

“Truce.”

-

Unfortunately for Yeosang and Wooyoung, neither of them make it out of San’s bedroom unscathed. But hey, they do leave with some neat reminders of San’s outrage, and Wooyoung can finally check ‘have a threesome’ off his bucket list.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/galaxysangs)


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